


A Number

by strawnilla



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawnilla/pseuds/strawnilla
Summary: "Wrong number," says a familiar voice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i must confess rn the idea is from a six word story tweet on twitter and i do not regret it at all
> 
> set in the go! timeline bc i crave angst and im dying over someoka attending hakuren. CANON SOMEOKA/ATSUYA INTERACTION LIKE WHAT. ATSUYA IS ALIVE. I STILL CANT GET OVER THAT EITHER

“Wrong number,” says a familiar voice.

Shirou’s breath fogs up the train window.

_Wrong number._

The words echo in his head. Two simple words. Two words, coming from a warm, strong voice—yet sounding wickedly cold  and distant to his ears.

How long has it been since he’s heard this voice? How long has it been since he’s closed his eyes, and let this voice soothe his nerves? 

How long?

_How long..._

For a moment, Shirou can almost feel it again. The arms around him, holding him tight. The dark nights spent in them, as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep to the rhythm of the other’s heartbeat. The quiet mirth he felt every time he woke up to the face that’s carved deep inside his chest.

And yet, all of it fades away, just as quickly as it came, replaced by other more lucid memories. Ones where there were sobs, ones where there were pleas, ones where there were no more soft voices, and ones where there were the sounds of footsteps leaving.

Shirou blinks his tears away.

He chuckles into his phone. Hoping that his voice won’t shake, he says, “Ah, my bad—sorry for disturbing you, mister.”

The line goes dead. He tries to breathe.

Pulling his phone away from his ear, he sees a name on the screen. A name he used to mutter under his breath, sweet and loving. A name that used to bring sunshine inside him. Now, it simply brings a mellow breeze.

The photo ID is old—not as old as their first encounter on the snowy soccer field, but old enough that he’s sure there are differences from then and now. The hair with the shade of pink that’s soft to his eyes, the wide triumphant grin that used to be for him, the beauty spot just beneath the corner of his eye. He can’t imagine what kind of differences there will be in current reality, but there must be.

And the numbers that accompany seem to mock him.

0:00:10

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds of his life. Ten second of the other’s life. Just ten seconds of a brief, fragile, shallow connection.

Just ten seconds worth of forever.


End file.
